Newly Minted Hamiltonians
So, we have had several distinctly "small city" (as opposed to big city, or small town) experiences, we thought we would share with you. That's the 'royal we', btw...it really means me. I don't know, ask Queen Victoria. It is, after all, her birthday.

So on Saturday, we made our usual trip chez market, and about halfway through, Noelle had an asthma attack. Her first in years. So we stopped for a quick shot of the 'puffer', and a bite of a portuguese tart. We then wander, off, and complete our shopping, and head to the super market up on the so-called 'mountain'.

Ok, so I'm biased. Where I come from, a mountain has to invoke awe and splendour. And you should neither be able to climb from the bottom to the top:
a) Without a cell phone, and the number of a good cardiologist, or
b) in under 15 minutes. So it's not a mountain. It's an escarpment. But as they say, when in Rome...but I digress.

So, we went up the aforementioned 'mountain', and got halfway to the supermarket, when Noelle asked,
"Where's Isaac's sippy cup?"
"It's in the diaper bag," I reply.
"Yes," continues Noelle. "But where is the diaper bag?"

So back to chez market we went, only to find not only was it still there (the diaper bag, not the market, although it should be noted that the market was there too), over an hour later, but nobody had even moved it off of the chair whose back it had been hanging off of. It was incredible. Everything was still in it, and it hadn't visibly been rifled through.

We once left a grocery bag with some bread, and a couple cans of food in a bulk food store which we frequented EVERY SINGLE WEEK. By the time I got back to the store no more than 20 minutes later, no sign, and nope, nobody had seen anything. That's Toronto for you. I mean, I love Toronto and all, but there our diaper bag would have been ancient history.

So then we get home, and are unloading our groceries, and the couple behind us, whom I should mention I have never spoken to before, and have only waved to once or twice, are putting a roof rack on their sensible family sedan.
"How long have you had that roof rack," I ask, wondering where they got it.
"Oh, we've had it for a couple of years."
"I was thinking about getting one for my car. It's so small, it would be good to store things on top."
"Well, come on over any time you want to borrow it."

Yup. Hamilton. Folks are just friendly here. In fact we're having trouble getting over it.

At the church I am attending sporadically, one lady whom I've spoken to twice now, called Noelle up a week or two ago, and despite never having met Noelle, introduced herself, and invited Noelle to her and her friend's regular "Wine and Chips night." Which is really a glorified excuse to stuff the kids into her 3rd floor play room, so the ladies can get tipsy. THEY HAD NEVER MET.

It's eerie.

If I didn't know better, I'd say it was as friendly as Calgary about 15 years ago. If I didn't know better.

Oh, but to offset all that was the small, possibly homeless lady in some country's traditional dress, washing various small items (a handbag, some brushes, etc) in the large downtwon public fountain today.

Nope. I've got nothing.

You can't make this stuff up.
From Hamilton...
J

I know it's been a while.
SO the move to Hamilton is complete. We are in a rather funky neighborhood here, I can ride my bike to work in about 10 minutes. Imagine that, me riding my bike to work. How bohemian. We also get to shop at the rather pleasant Hamilton Farmers' Market, which is where all the little green grocers that we are used to seeing up and down the Danforth are located here in Hamilton.

We have both noticed a disturbing trend among Hamiltonians to deride their downtown. Yes it's decrepit, and often boarded up and grafittied, but the architecture is incredible. The 6 block Lister Block downtown (right behind my building where I work) made Heritage Canada's list of most endangered architecture worth saving again this year. It apparently has a huge terracotta gallery, and stunning detail on the inside, but the yahoos who have bought it want to bulldoze it and put something else up. It's a nightmare.

So we are at serious risk of turning into civic activists. (Who was it that said "A crank is a little thing that makes revolutions?"), but we will see how that goes. I can already hear my mom saying 'Shouldn't you wait until you have lived there a couple months?' to which I respond "When have I ever been prudent about political issues. Sheesh mom."

So that's where we are.

Isaac continues to bend the needle on the cute-o-meter whenever he wants something...but the terrible twos have arrived just a smidgen early. And because old habits die hard (i.e. five years of university) Noelle went straight to the library and signed out every book she could find on managing intractable toddlers. We'll see if he needs MORE therapy after this or less. My guess is that it will just shift from Jungian to Gestalt or something. Just because I like the word Gestalt. You know?

Oh, and Tom Wilson, formerly of Junkhouse lives very near to us. I haven't seen him yet, but that's the rumour. He'd kind of be hard to miss, I figure. I'll let you know. I never was a big Junkhouse fan, but his current band "Blackie and the Rodeo Kings" is truly Canada's roots rock powerhouse.

That's all for now, must get some shut eye before the 12:00 midnight Screamies start up. I don't have bags under my eyes, I've got luggage.